Ꮯꪮꪮkเꫀ Ꮶเd Ꭰᥲᥡᥴᥲɾꫀ (Ꭺ Ꮯꪮꪮkเꫀ Ꭱᥙᥒ ℱᥲᥒƒเᥴtเꪮᥒ)

{Eight - Vegetables for Lunch?!}

"Well, that was certainly... interesting." Spinach commented wryly as she led the kids inside, "It was a perfectly executed demonstration of how to NOT play chess safely. What did everyone think?"

"Never playing chess again!" Angel stammered. Everyone was surprised yet amused at the sight of Angel Cookie themselves quaking in fear of two twelve year olds and a chess board.

"Definitely giving chess a try, if this is how it is played!" Devil guffawed, and nudged the angelic cookie in the ribs with his elbow. He got a trademarked death stare in response.

"More chaotic than the Tricksters." Snow Sugar Cookie replied, Snow King nodding along.

"Debatable," replied Cherry Cookie.

"A worthwhile performance, from what we've heard. Maybe chess isn't so boring after all." Gumball Cookie said in an admiring tone, then added smugly, "But the Tricksters can pull off something even better!"

Onion Cookie held back her sobs as best as she could, not bothering to answer Spinach.

"Our paddle pool..." Peppermint whispered, remembering the salt water that spilled out the pool. Oh, and the soil that, like nature's earthy sponge, soaked up all of the pool's previous contents until there was only a single wet spot and flipped-over paddle pool left.

"No.. water pool.. more?" Squid Ink asked, eating a gold coin to calm themself down. Tears streamed down their face. It didn't mean much, though, as they almost always cried.

Sorbet Shark just let out a dissapointed "OooOoo" in response, shaking their head with a facepalm.

Chess Choco weren't standing in the corner anymore, but were covering their faces with their wide-brimmed hats and looking at Angel Cookie apologetically through the gaps. The cookie looked back at the girls and gave them a polite nod. The look of fear in Angel's eyes still didn't fully go away.

At that moment, Strawberry Crepe emerged from their workshop. They were covered in inky black oil and carrying a golden wrench. "Greetings, weak cookies." They just stared at the self-confident kid, daggers in their eyes.

"Okay then," Spinach turned to everyone and announced, "I think it is about time we have lunch. But I'm not the one who will be cooking, no!" Everyone in the room looked confused.

"What do you mean, you're not cooking for everyone? What kind of daycare is this if the children have to do the work?" The engineer kid demanded, crossing their hands together as they stared daggers at the caretaker. "That's CHILD LABOR, you know!"

"It's a useful life lesson for everyone, and it is NOT child labor. Knowing how to cook properly is vital. Also, I've had enough to do, dealing with cookies like you." Spinach replied, the passive-aggressive anger multiplying with each spoken syllable. Then she returned her usual cheery self and turned back to everyone else. "Anyways, I will just go get the ingredients and the recipe, and you will be able to start cooking. Sit at the table for now, please."

Everyone did as she said and scrambled to take a seat at one of the many chairs. For a while, all you could hear in the room of chair legs scraping across the floor and the kids jostling for a good seat. The long table at which they say was made of a sturdy, maroon wood imported from a kingdom far away. (To be honest, the Sugar Gnomes who built it forgot what the Kingdom was called, but that's not important.)

The cookie kids waited expectantly for Spinach to return, fidgeting, looking around, hoping that she would return with a plate of delicious jellybeans. They exchanged their thoughts on all of the things that had happened so far. All of the kids agreed, at the very least, that the day was eventful.